


If We Are Ready To Make This Something

by EllaWinchester24



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Aaand - Freeform, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Bucky Is A Spitfire, Bucky Is Pissed At Steve A Little, Bucky Secretly Likes Steve Back, D/s Hints, Forgive Me, Funny Misunderstandings, Humor, I Can't Bring Myself To Tag About Said Smut, Investigative Reporter!Bucky, Kinda, Law Enforcement, M/M, Modern AU, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, SO, Sharon and Steve are siblings, Slight Violence, Smut, Steve Really Likes Bucky, Steve is socially awkward, Twink!Bucky, cop!steve, sort of, there's a little bit of smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-18
Updated: 2016-10-23
Packaged: 2018-07-15 20:29:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7237318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EllaWinchester24/pseuds/EllaWinchester24
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Why is everyone fucking calling me that? I’m not a kept boy! No one <i>has</i> kept boys anymore! Stop calling me that.” He huffs before turning his angry gaze on a bewildered Steve.</p><p>OR</p><p>The AU I've been dying to write- protective!cop!Steve, twink!reporter!Bucky who loves to take risks like personally meeting criminals in disguise for his stories. When the two meet, something definitely ignites. In the best way.</p><p>(In Steve's pants)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know what I did.
> 
> I'm sorry, I've just been dying to write Stucky for a loooong time and it's high time I got off my ass. So, here it is. I don't know if I'll be adding smut, but there are definitely going to be hints of (dom) Steve.  
> I've no idea how the police actually function, but this is my version of it. Let's just pretend this is my fantastical world, where cops are like the way I've written them here. *dies of embarrassment*  
> It's unbeta'd, hurriedly written and probably pathetic.
> 
> Please let me know even if it is, I'm a slut for comments!  
> Also, there is slight, very slight violence. I've tagged for ot, but if you feel a more severe one is required, drop a comment please.  
> Enjoy. :D
> 
> PS. Title is of course, from the lovely Natasha Bedingfield's "Who Knows".

The first thing Steve notices about him are his jeans. They fit him perfectly, hugging his ass like they’ve been painted on. The beautiful curve doesn’t make him cry, but it’s a close call.

The next thing he notices is _that glorious face_. It’s square-ish, clear and fair, giving him the look of a college kid. Steve can’t really tell what color his eyes are supposed to be in the dim lighting of the disco, but his gaze is sharp and piercing, with just enough innocence in there to make Steve want to go around arresting every old creep in the place, undressing him with their eyes.

Firmly telling his conscience he isn’t one of them, he continues with his assessing. The boy looks a little over 20, maybe 21. It’s enough to make him wonder if they even checked his ID. Probably didn’t, Steve thinks bitterly. All too busy eye-fucking him.

“Hey, Cap? You seem a little lost. All okay down there?” Sam’s voice sounds in his ear and he shakes his head, trying to clear thoughts of tempting twinks.

“Yeah, sorry. Just got a little distracted. I’m good.”

“Well, don’t go gettin’ too distracted, Rogers.” Nat drawls, smirk audible even through the comms. “We’re here to work. Don’t worry though, I promise we’ll bring you out to have fun a little, sometime soon.” There’s a stifled chuckle from Sam that has him glaring at his drink, before firmly turning away from the part of the club the boy’s currently occupying and focusing.

“It’s been over thirty minutes. Are we even positive Pierce is going to show up?” he asks into his glass discreetly. 

“Affirmative.” Sam replies. “Hill says she distinctly heard him. Besides, he has some sort of guy he always comes here to meet. Probably one of his ‘kept boy’ charity cases, but we don’t know his name _or_ what he looks like. Said to be in his late-twenties, attractive? You see him, Cap?” 

Steve sighs. “I’m in a gay club, Sam. They _all_ look attractive and in their late-twenties.” Well, except for ~~his~~ the twink, but that’s not important.

What’s important is the fact that Alexander Pierce is walking in through the main doors and looking about like he owns the place. Which really shouldn’t be surprising. That’s the man’s patented look. 

“I have visual on the target. He’s arrived.” Steve mutters before tearing his eyes away so as to not look over-interested and flits his eyes around for a while. There are a lot of guys and nearly all of them look like they stepped out of a GQ cover, but Steve really isn’t feeling it tonight. This is possibly due to one very gorgeous looking brunette who is-

Hang on a second.

That brunette is walking to Pierce like- 

Steve’s mind stutters to a stop as the boy sashays over to Pierce and smiles enticingly, leaning in towards the criminal’s body. 

Fuck.

-*-*-*-*-*-

“You can’t help it, Rogers. We have to do it. And we can’t do it without your signal. So man _the fuck_. Up.” Nat growls lowly in his ear, and yeah, he’s just going to do it.

Which is what he’s been telling himself for the past twenty minutes. Pierce and his… young friend are engrossed in conversation. Well, the younger man is. Pierce is pretending to be interested in the other’s long rambles as he scrolls down on his phone and answers his questions in a fake-interested tone. Steve looks as Pierce grows weary of pretending and leans forward to whisper something in the boy’s ear. His eyes widen as though he’s unprepared, but he quickly settles his face into the casually cocky look from before. Pierce gets up and grabs the brunette’s hand, leading him to the back rooms, not looking back to notice the expression of slight panic on his partner’s face.

“Cap, you don’t move now- we lose this shot.” Sam says and that has him moving. 

They’ve been trying to pin Alexander Pierce down for a crime for over two years, but there’s never been enough evidence. He’s always managed to stay one step ahead, spies scattered everywhere even in the police. Till last month. Till Sam and Nat’s previous Captain- Brock Rumlow- was revealed to be a mole. The two had secretly tipped off Chief Fury, who had Rumlow shipped off to a ‘better’ position and brought in Steve as a replacement. 

Steve is good. Steve is chivalrous and he never, ever deviates from his morals. His integrity is why his subordinates respect him the way they do. They’re still solidifying their bonds, but Sam and Nat already feel like family.

And it would be poor sport, letting his family down when they’ve been trying to score a win against Pierce for so long. All the evidence had finally trickled in, when Steve had cracked the password on Rumlow’s old laptop. All they needed to do was make an arrest.

Which is why, he’s here. 

He takes a long swig from his glass, finishing it off before rising slowly and casually starting to saunter over to the curtains leading to the rooms. Two huge men are standing guard in front looking like they weigh two hundred and fucking fifty pounds, but Steve isn’t worried. He could take a team of those bulky morons down in his sleep and still run a marathon. 

Doesn’t mean they don’t try to stop him when he gets close enough.

“You’re going the wrong way.” one says, stepping forward menacingly, like he thinks he’ll be able to cower Steve into backing off. The cop just grins and takes a deliberate step forward.

“I just gotta talk to your boss for a quick sec.” The second man also comes in closer, cracking his knuckles like a cliché. It makes Steve want to roll his eyes. “I don’t want any trouble, fellas.”

“Sure. All you gotta do is fuck. Off.” The second man says and the blond frowns. He really hates it when people swear in vain. Opening his mouth to inform him of this, he’s cut off by a thick arm pushing him back. 

He doesn’t budge an inch, obviously (those hours at the gym are for a _reason_ ), but it does give him a reason to hit back. Grabbing the man’s head, Steve pushes him around till the man’s head is firmly trapped in between his muscled forearms. One contraction, and the man is sliding to the floor in a smooth motion, unconscious. 

Before the second guy can do more than raise his hand, pulled back into a punch, Steve yanks it forward with a satisfying pop and shoves the man to his knees, groaning in pain. “I’m sorry, did that hurt?”

“Stop trying to imitate me and get to the fucker already.” Natasha snaps, but there’s amusement in her tone. Steve flushes and grinds out a quiet ‘Language!’ before moving inside. 

As it turns out, he doesn’t have to go far. Pierce must have heard the commotion, because he’s standing out in the hallway, suit jacket discarded. The brunette isn’t far behind, hair looking slightly mussed like he’d run his fingers through it in nervousness. He looks a little shaken up and it makes something growl in him somewhere deep. 

“Who the hell are you?” Pierce demands, clearly a little intimidated at the sight of his guards lying on the floor, visible through the curtains. The brunette also seems to have spotted them, because his eyes flit rapidly between Pierce and Steve. 

Ignoring a ridiculous urge to make sure he’s okay, he focuses on the criminal in front of him. “Alexander Pierce, you are under arrest,” for a list of crimes that is, frankly, longer than my laundry list, he thinks before continuing. “You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say, can and will be used against y-”

“No!” the brunette shouts, throwing himself in front of Pierce in one melodramatic fling. “You can’t take him, not _now_ , please, you-”

His babbling and the rise of Steve’s bile in his throat are both stopped when Pierce cuts in. “Darling,” he says and Steve would like to fucking punch that asshole. “Darling, it’s alright. I’ll be out before you know it. There isn’t any reason to be worried.”

The boy just turns to give the old creep a sickeningly sweet smile before turning to Steve with a look of frightening desperation. “You _can’t_.”

It’s irrational, but Steve would really like to make sure this boy hasn’t been brainwashed by Pierce. It’s looking like the only possibility that doesn’t make the boy look bad. But, it isn’t the boy that matters. 

“I’m sorry, but I have to arrest him.” He firmly, but gently pushes the other aside before advancing on Pierce and cuffs him with a satisfactory sense of triumph. Turning around to lead him outside, he finds the brunette glaring at him.

“Please, just give me two minutes to talk to him. That’s all I want to do.” He says, managing to look pissed despite the frantic nature of the words. 

There’s a throbbing between his eyes that is going to give him _hell_ later, but he has to do it. “Look, kid-”

“I’m no kid! I’m fucking 27!” he snaps and both Pierce and Steve gape.

“You told me you were 21!” Pierce exclaims and Steve turns to raise an eyebrow at him. He obediently shuts up and Steve refocuses on the angry bo- _man_. Who doesn’t look very impressed at Pierce’s last remark.

“Alright then. Look, whatever you did with…with him, is- it’s… you don’t have to do anything you don’t want anymore. Not that you were, of course.” He adds hurriedly, looking at the expression on the other’s face get stormier. “It was all with your-”

“Are you suggesting,” the brunette begins in a dangerously low tone. “that I’m his _kept boy_?” and now, Steve is confused.

“You’re not?” Pierce and Steve ask in unison, making the other curse angrily in what sounds like Russian. 

“No, that’s not what I’m suggesting?” he tries to say in an appeasing manner, only to be shot another glare. “Look, kid. I’m sorry, but I really gotta do this now, okay? So, if you could just-”

“I’m not a kid!” the brunette bellows. “I’m not a goddamn kid and I’m not a fucking kept boy and I just want to talk to him for two damn minutes. I think you should let me have that much, Mr. I-Don’t-Do-My-Research.”

Okay, that has Steve narrowing his eyes. The brunette returns his narrow-eyed look, but there’s a twinge of hesitation, like he’s scared he’s genuinely pissed him off. Well, he has.

Attaching Pierce’s cuffs to a rail nearby, he stalks forward and pulls out another set from his pocket. The boy- man, god damn it- man takes a step back instinctively. “Sir, I’m sorry, but you’re obstructing the law. I’m going to have to cuff you.”

“What! That’s ridiculous! I’m not going to, HEY!” he yells as the handcuffs fall in place with a _click!_ , struggling. “Let me out of these now! You have the wrong guy!”

Steve ignores him and takes Pierce, starting to march both the men out of the club. “Nat, I have the target and the other man. Headed to you.”

“Well done, Steve.” She sings playfully, but he can hear the undercurrent of victory in there. It makes him smile. He always loves it when his team feels good and tonight, they really deserve it. “Bring ‘em in.”

The crowd parts for them like the sea and soon, they’re outside the van. Sam opens the back doors with a wide smile, mouth open with a witty remark, no doubt, ready on his lips before his eyes fall on something and he freezes.

“ _James_?” his mouth drops open. “What are y- oh my god, please tell me you weren’t Pierce’s kept boy.” He groans at the sexy brunette, who just growls in frustration.

“Why is everyone fucking calling me that? I’m not a kept boy! No one _has_ kept boys anymore! Stop calling me that.” He huffs before turning his angry gaze on a bewildered Steve.

“You know this guy?” Steve asks Sam. 

Who just sighs and looks heavenward, praying for patience. “Yes,” he says finally. “Yes, I do. If by knowing, you mean ‘finding him at the scene of every important arrest, sniffing around for details’. Seriously though, James. I thought you’d have the common sense to stay away from this one. I told you this was dangerous.”

Back up. “You _told_ a kept boy we’re going for Pierce? One who goes looking for danger? Honestly, Sam, that’s-”

That’s when Steve gets kneed in the balls. 

“I’m not a fucking kept boy, you dumbass!” James says into his ear, from where he’s doubled up. “I’m James Buchanan Barnes.”

The name sounds vaguely familiar and half-connected thoughts fly around in his head till they finally come together. 

James Buchanan Barnes. James I-Write-The-Best-Exposés-Ever Barnes. From ‘The Brooklyn Bulletin’. He just called the most sensational journalist of the city a kept boy.

How does he _get_ into these scrapes?


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, first things first. I'd planned on posting this chapter much, _much_ sooner than this.  
>  But, Life said to me: Peasant, how dare you think you're allowed to enjoy yourself! EXAMS!  
> Me: Nooo, Life, no! I have fics to finish.  
> Life: And now, a syllabus as well. STUDY!
> 
> Oh my god, I am so weird.  
> Anyway, that actually IS true. So, I'm posting this now and hopefully the next one shall be here on Wednesday.  
> Hopefully.  
> Also, I just realised I'm facing major, MAJOR levels of writer's block for this one. So, any inputs you can give me would be _worshipped_.  
>  Alright go ahead. Read this trash.
> 
> PS. I read this through and realised I've made Bucky look like less of a firecracker in this update, but that's because his boss is an intimidating jerk, who- fuck, I can't spoil it for you. Just... read it and I promise to make him more spitfire-ey in the next one. :)

“No, I gave my statement. Now, I’d like to go home, Tasha, if you please.” James says in a clipped tone, gaze firmly fixed on said redhead. Steve feels a little put-out at being ignored from where he’s observing the exchange, but he did kinda deserve it. 

Sam filled him in on the story about the brunette, on the way back to their quarters. Apparently, this isn’t the first time the reporter has gotten arrested. 

“He’s brilliant at his job, even though he takes a shit load of risks. It actually worries us a little. We ran into him two years ago on the Arnim Zola case.” Steve nods. He’s heard of that one, even though it was before his time. “So, the entire country is trying to figure out where the Swiss dirtbag was holed up and conducting his experiments, with no success. And all of a sudden, this guy turns up, tells us he knows where Zola is, but he won’t tell us unless we let him have fifteen minutes before the arrest.”

Steve snorts despite himself. That…sounds like James. Or well, the little he’s seen of him so far. “What’d you guys do?”

Sam throws him a _What do you think?_ look. “We didn’t do jack squat. Fury took one look at him and turned to us. One ‘what the hell are you idiots dawdling around for? Give him what he wants!’ and we were moving. We caught Zola, he got his fifteen minutes- everyone happy. The next day, his piece in the Bulletin showed up. Actually praised the police for once, though I’m sure his opinion was a little biased.”

“It was, and it still is. But, I don’t think I’ll change it.” The man in question says, walking up to them with a smile he’s trying hard to stifle. It disappears as soon as he spots Steve, though. Instead, a narrow-eyed glare is thrown his way before quick goodbyes are muttered and Sam gives James a pat on the back as he starts to walk away.

Steve stares after him for a few seconds, before getting an eye roll from Sam and runs to catch up to him. “James, hey! Wait up.”

The other man only stills for a second before doubling his speed. Steve sighs. Wonders why all attractive guys run from him like this. It isn't like he handcuffs them. Well, not _all_. 

Then, continues to chase the other guy.

“Okay, I’m sorry! I’m sorry, I know I shouldn’t have- er… I shouldn’t-”

“Shouldn’t have what?” James whirls around angrily, making Steve back up quickly. “Insinuated that I was fucking a fifty-something criminal for jewels and money?” his crude words make the cop cringe and he tries to defend himself. 

“No, that’s not what I- I didn’t mean to…” he trails off, looking at the reporter’s face, turn darker. “I’m sorry,” he says hurriedly. The tension in the air is thick enough without James’ next lecture and he’d like to get to the part where he’s sure the brunette won’t chew his head off already. 

“I’m sorry I called you… _that_. I just- didn’t even know you were there and under disguise, till-” _till Sam had to snap me out of the daze your magnificent ass threw me into,_ he would like to say, but he’s also pretty sure James would strangle him if he did so. “Look, I’m really sorry I said all that. It was an honest misunderstanding, one that won’t happen again. Could you please forgive me?”

The apology seems to disarm James a little, if his open mouth is any indication. He gapes for a few moments, before realizing what he’s doing and snapping it shut. Steve is then subjected to another two minutes of careful scrutiny and narrow-eyed looks- during which he has to force himself to look into the other’s eyes earnestly and not slowly rake his down the brunette’s body- after which the reporter apparently deems his apology worthy enough of forgiveness. 

“That’s- fine. I have to…go.” Giving a slight nod, James turns to step out through the glass doors, only to realise everyone’s rushing in because of the sudden rain. He scowls beautifully, and for a minute Steve is so caught up in admiring the perfection of his jaw line, he almost loses track of what’s being said. Almost. “And so does Nature, apparently. Just as I have to start this story, too. Perfect.” He mutters, making the blonde crack a hesitant smile.

“Well, why don’t you stay here and write it? Unless you have important details on your computer?” Steve asks honestly, not entirely comfortable with James’ walking to his office in this rain, with his ~~already sinful~~ clothes sticking wetly to him.

“No, that’s not- all my details are here, on my tablet. My boss likes me to write the stories in office for some reason. Says I write better and stuff. And I don’t have a car and I need to write this in a place where I won’t be distracted, but with Sam and Tasha here, I doubt I’ll be able to last five seconds and this whole thing just blows.” He rants, expression looking rather pouty. 

Steve really wants to click a picture of the adorable journalist, stopping himself only because he just knows James _will_ eviscerate him if he does anything like that. Not that he would, of course, Steve tells himself quickly. It’s too creepy.

 _Are you actually saying that’d stop you?_ A part of his brain (that sounds an awful lot like Natasha) asks and he bristles. Before he can get sucked into an imaginary conversation with his subordinate, however, James’ expression changes.

The look of annoyance is gone. In its place, is panicky terror and Steve watches in confusion as the other man begins to back away from the doors. “Shiiiit. Fuck fuck, fuckity- oh my God.” He babbles, eyes firmly fixed on something beyond those doors. Steve follows his gaze and his eyes find one very large, beefy blonde approaching the station doors. His expression doesn’t look to be very kind and his gaze is clearly trained on James.

Said man leaps behind Steve in a mad dash of hope, trying to hide himself, but it’s no use. 

“Barnes!” the bulky man yells, flinging open the doors. “I see you there, you bum! Stop hiding!”

James makes this ~~cute~~ flailing motion, before straightening up and stepping out from behind the cop. “Mr. Hodge, good evening. I was just- er…on my way to the office-”

“ _Was_? You _were_ just on your way? Do you know what time it is? Your story should’ve come in hours ago! I would ask you if you’re not interested in doing this piece and if I should assign it to someone else, but it’s too late now. Pierce was arrested two hours ago, and I haven’t even seen the hint of a draft from you, Barnes! If you think you can just give me a shoddy piece of crap when-”

“Alright, that’s enough.” Steve cuts in firmly, looking at James’ expression. “Go a little easy on him- he’s had an excitable evening.”

The Hodge fellow turns to him like he’s ready to give him a piece of his mind, but freezes when he catches sight of the uniform Steve’s changed into. “Officer, I believe I’m allowed to-” The man begins snootily, making him huff.

“ _Captain_ Steve Rogers, actually.”

“Well, Captain. I’m extremely glad to meet you,” Hodge says, sounding anything but. “But, I think I’m entitled to questioning my employee when he doesn’t finish his work assignments on time. When he, in fact, promised to deliver the article two days ago.”

“But, I wasn’t able to meet him then!” James cries out in exasperation. “He was ‘working’ and he cancelled on me, which means I only got my info today and-”

“SILENCE! I won’t hear these excuses of yours, Barnes. I’ve given you countless opportunities to do your work on time-”

“And I always have!”

“-and yet here we are.” Hodge talks over him loudly, eliciting a scowl from Steve. “At almost 12:30 in the night, in a police station with no article anywhere in sight. So, really, I don’t understand why I should be giving you any extra credits on your assignment paper, when I don’t get any results from you.”

James, whose expression had been getting more and more frustrated with every passing second, pales at that, eyes turning wide and panicky. “N-no, sir. I’m sorry, I understand it was wrong of me to have promised to finish an article I didn’t have my data for. It’s just that I wanted to make sure that I have all important data before starting with something of this level and I don’t know why I didn’t make a draft or anything, but-”

“Mr. Hodge,” the blonde snaps, turning to face the infuriating editor of Brooklyn Bulletin, to the chagrin of said man’s employee. “I don’t believe you quite understand the situation here. James here, put his _life_ in danger just so he could procure some juicy details for a story in the newspaper. Now, I hardly think I need to point out to you, of all people, what a crook Pierce is. Therefore, when James decided to go _undercover_ to sneak some information from an old sleazeball like Pierce, I think he was very brave. And, needless to say, dedicated to his job. So, really, I suggest you treat him with a little more dignity and respect, because if anything’s going to prove he deserves it from you, it’s the events of tonight.”

He finishes firmly, stowing away his cop voice now that he’s hauled the jerk up. 

And he does look hauled up with his peeved yet ashamed expression. Turning to his employee, he gives a long-suffering sigh, tells him to take an extra day for the report and marches out as soon as he’s finished being his pompous self. 

Steve is just thinking that the least Hodge could’ve done was apologize to James, but is cut off when he hears a throat clear awkwardly. 

James the Journalist is standing before him, a sheepish look on his face. Even that doesn’t stop him from looking ridiculously appealing, according to him, but (he values his genitals, thank you very much) keeps his mouth shut, only raising his eyebrows questioningly.

For some reason, it makes James flush and he clears his throat again before speaking up. “So, that was nice of you.”

Steve smiles. “Believe me, it was my pleasure. He was being a jerk, anyway. You don’t deserve that after the day you had, James.”

“Bucky.” The other man blurts out suddenly, eyes wide. Steve frowns.

“I beg your pardon?”

“My name, it’s uh-” he says, averting his eyes. “I don’t really like being called James, but that’s what Sam and all call me here. I usually go by Bucky. It’s short for Buchanan. Which is my middle name. Obviously, because you know my first name is-”

Steve grins, liking this new side of James- _Bucky_ \- that babbles nervously and fidgets. “Bucky, hi. I’m Steve.”

The brunette stops babbling and apprehensively eyes his outstretched hand before reciprocating the grin and putting his hand forward as well. “Hi, Steve.”

The two of them stand there like that for a few moments, just grinning like idiots but just as Steve is opening his mouth to maybe ask this gorgeous specimen of a human being to coffee-

“Hey, I see you guys resolved your differences! That’s great, I don’t enjoy conflicts between my friends all that much.” Sam struts over to them, hands in his pocket. “Though really, James, I’d never have imagined you’d forgive someone calling you that so easily-”

Steve suddenly has a sick feeling in his gut. “Okay, er, Sam? We’re kinda in the middle of something-”

“I mean,” his junior continues, oblivious to Steve’s rising panic. “Kept boy, I guess, James forgave you for. But I can’t believe he let the ‘twink’ comment slide! That’s usually not his-”

“What did you say?” Bucky asks in a dangerous tone and Steve preemptively moves to cover his groin.

“Well, when we were there, Cap called you a twi… erm.” He trails off, looking at Steve’s frantic gestures. “I mean, he…uh- he didn’t say that, I was just kidding!”

Really, Sam? Steve has one tiny second to curse his second-in-command, before he receives his second knee-to-groin of the night.

(Maybe he should start wearing protective gear down there)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *braces for rotten tomatoes and eggs*


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh. My. Gosh.  
> I'm so sorry it's been so long since I updated! Seriously, I would've done it earlier, but I just didn't get the time, I swear.  
> Now, though, I'm going to stick to my deadlines. *Scout's honour*
> 
> Anyway, this part doesn't make me very happy. But, I really needed to post and I figured I'd edit all of this out eventually after I'm done.  
> Okay, I'm done. :)  
> Drop comments and kudos, guys! <3

Steve is on _patrol duty_ , for some reason he isn’t quite sure of, but since Nat was smirking while delivering this news, he highly suspects she has a hand and some evil motive behind it.

That he, admittedly, has yet to come across, but come on. It’s _Natasha_. 

Now, Steve is a firm believer in equality, so he doesn’t think that he’s exempt from doing patrol duty just because he’s Captain, but it does get a little boring. Nat knows how much he despises having to sit in a car for hours on end, but hey, he has to set an example. 

Normally, he’d take this Saturday off, and relax at home while mulling over mysteries like how brunette reporters can be so terrifying and appealing at the same time- but it’s been three days of him doing just that, so he’s decided to move his posterior and do some work.  
He’s just cruising the streets once before taking up the usual spot, when he hears muffled, but loud voices coming from an alley. 

Now, he usually isn’t _that cop_ , who goes and interferes in everything, but he’s pretty sure he heard some scuffling, and well- it’s never bad to check things out, right?

Nodding to himself, he pulls up and gets out into the mostly empty road, looking around for the source of the disturbance and heading into the alleyway before stopping short.

The scene before his eyes is…shocking, to the say the least.

A bulky goon has Bucky Barnes’ arms locked in his grip while another twirls a scary-looking baseball bat in his hand. The situation looks pretty grave and yet, the journalist has a distinctly unimpressed look on his face. None of them have spotted him yet and Steve’s already beginning to move forward, face set in an expression no doubt reflecting the anger he’s feeling. He’s ready to beat the shit out of these two for picking on a single person like cowards...

…but he’s barely moved two steps towards the bat-wielding thug when Bucky smiles sweetly before delivering a swift kick to his captor’s knees, twisting free of his grip and ducking the other’s blow with the bat. 

He doesn’t have an escape plan, it’s clear to see. The reporter is about to make a run for it, when Goon Number 1 recovers and manages to clutch at his arm and almost yank him back.

 _Almost_.

Steve pushes Bucky behind him, neatly punching Goon Number 2 to the ground and twisting the other’s arm till he yells out and falls, clutching it in agony. A kick to the side ensures neither of them will be giving anyone any trouble for some time and he kicks the bat-twirler one more time to feel petty satisfaction. 

Extracting handcuffs from his pocket, Steve bends over to click the metal around their wrists, only to straighten up and turn around quickly, hearing a strangled noise from behind him.

Bucky stands before him, his mouth pursed, eyes looking everywhere but at him, feet tapping impatiently. It doesn’t _look_ like he made the sound, but-

Shrugging off the thought, Steve turns back and bends down to finish cuffing them up and attaches them to the handle in the backseat before turning to face the reporter.

“Are you alright?” he asks in concern and the other nods curtly. He tries not to feel too disappointed by the short reply and takes a deep breath. “Uh, I’m going to need you to give me a report of what happened here- can you come to the station with me right now?”

The brunette stares flatly at him. “Do I have a choice?”

Steve looks at him reproachfully and Bucky looks disarmed temporarily. Unfortunately, he doesn’t look like he’s in the mood to cooperate, so Steve just sighs. “If you want, I can have Nat come to you, take your statement later, it’s fine.”

The offer seems to take Bucky by surprise, because he looks at the blonde wonderingly for a couple of seconds before hesitantly shaking his head, “Nah, that’s fine, I’ll just give it now. I have an off day, anyway.”

“Mr. Hodge terrorizing other employees today?” slips out of his mouth seconds before he realizes what he said, eyes opening wide with shock. It draws a reluctant smile from Bucky but he doesn’t relax just yet. “Sorry, I’m still searching for a brain-to-mouth filter. You might have seen, I haven’t had much luck yet.” 

That only serves to widen the grin and soon, Steve is being blinded by beautiful dimples and an even more gorgeous smile. “Don’t worry, Cap. At least you’re better than Lang.” comes the reassurance, which isn’t much of one considering Scott blurts out a couple hundred random things _a day_ , but hey, the other man is a) not kneeing him in the balls, b) actually attempting to make proper conversation and c) _not kneeing him in the balls_ \- therefore, win.

“Sooo… I can either come with you to give my statement or let you stand there and admire my ethereal beauty- but there’s no way I can do both, pal.”

Steve flushes and quickly opens the doors, getting in with a quick prayer to higher deities to not screw anything up _this time_.

Miracle of miracles, they listen. 

Mostly.

But since this time, Bucky only glares daggers at Steve when an officer calls him McTwinkerson, instead of destroying parts of his anatomy; Steve is more than okay with it.

(If the officer happens to find himself taking everyone’s lunch orders for the next two weeks, it has nothing to do with him being a jerk)

-*-*-*-*-*-

It becomes A Thing.

The week after the alley incident, Steve gets a call from a florist who says he’s watching a guy being chased by, quote ‘something that looks like a 40s villain and is carrying guns’.

It turns out to be Bucky being chased by Schmidt and his infamous guns, for writing an unsavory article about the true business going on at his research facility.

“How the hell did you get into this one?” Steve yells, covering them both with a broken taxi door as the onslaught of bullets rages at them.

Bucky glares. “Who asked you to come, huh, dipshit? I can take care of myself just fine.” He says just as a bullet soars millimeters past his cheek and grazes the wall behind them. 

Steve just raises an eyebrow at the now terrified man before sighing deeply and rising up in one fluid motion. Leaping over their makeshift shield, he fires at Schmidt’s knees, catching the dirtbag when he buckles and knocking him out clean.

Turning back to the reporter, he grins. “You just gonna sit there and admire my strength or call for some backup?”

It takes a couple of seconds, but when Bucky returns that smile, it’s almost bright enough to light up his entire week.

-*-*-*-*-*-

The next time is considerably less surprising for Steve. 

He’s working on the evidence board- trying to figure out if Schmidt has any accomplices they can tag- when Scott bursts in. 

“Cap? I have a guy on the phone asking for you, babbling something about drug lords and abandoned buildings?”

Steve sighs as he picks up his office’s landline, but the grin on his face completely gives him away. “Evening, Bucky. How can I be of service today?”

“Oh thank fuck,” the reporter breathes and Steve frowns at the language. “I thought Lang was never going to go get you. Anyway, I need you here. Now.” He snaps and Steve doesn’t even bother asking why.

Shrugging on his uniform jacket, he transfers the call to his phone and motions for Nat to take over, grabbing his cruiser keys and stepping out as fast as he can. The sound of German shouts in the background, though, gives him pause.

“Bucky,” he asks carefully. “Which evil villain did you piss off now?”

There’s an almost sheepish silence at the other end. 

“Uhhh… if I say Strucker, will you kill me?”

Steve takes a deep breath.

Bucky continues talking. “Well, not exactly Strucker. I was actually just trying to break into his safe house and get a look at the experiments he’s been doing, you know, ‘cause it might correspond with that of Schmidt’s- and so I thought I’d get in easy, but turns out he had guards stationed _everywhere_ , and I’m talkin’-”

“Bucky?”

“Yeah?”

“Shut up.”

Breaking a reporter out of a corrupt mad scientist’s bungalow wasn’t exactly on his agenda for tonight, but Bucky had sounded really desperate on the phone. And well, it’s not his fault that his heart had to go and pick the most gorgeous journalist ever, right?

So Steve fights his way through at least ten armed men (thankfully, he’s able to sneak up on them so he doesn’t have to fight the entire _battalion_ ), before he reaches the lab room.

Where Bucky is currently clicking a selfie. Alone.

“What.”

The journalist drops his phone in surprise and turns around to face him, a sheepish look on his face. “You’re early.”

“Where are the German goons I was promised?”

“Uhhh…sleeping in their room? Managed to slip them a little sleeping powder.”

Steve just facepalms.

-*-*-*-*-*-

It’s not always this light hearted and easy-

 

_“BUCK, GET OUTTA HERE! NOW!”_

_“Hang on, I need to get that recorder, please…Steve-”_

_“Drop your guns.”_

_“Sitwell, just-”_

_“I said, drop your guns if you ever wanna see your pet reporter again!”_

_“Let the guy go, Sitwell. He’s got nothing to do with this-”_

_“The article in today’s Bulletin would **beg** to differ, Rogers. If you try to take even a step closer-”_

_CRACK!_

 

(The doctors don’t think Steve should be returning to duty, especially with his left shoulder still slightly out of commission, but he can be stubborn. Also, a certain reporter had promised to take him to the most spectacular ride on Coney Island if he got out of the damn hospital ready.)

 

But when the hilarity hits, it’s madness-

 

_“What the hell’d you do this time, Buck?”_

_“Okay, I find that unfair- why’s it always gotta be me who does something?”_

_“_ What _did you do, Bucky?”_

_“Uhh…I might have brought about a drug lord war? But it was accidental! And I had it under control anyway-”_

_“Did you just say you had it under control?”_

_“…yes?”_

_“Is that why bullets were flying everywhere in the city square?”_

_“…”_

_“Well?”_

_“Touché.”_

-*-*-*-*-*-

Within almost no time at all, they reach a sort of agreement-

Bucky will go looking into his investigative cases, call for Steve the _second_ he needs backup and let his cop friend do the ass-kicking while he admires the view (wink wink).

It’s a good arrangement.

One that lets them reach the friendship level, while also allowing Steve to realise his body doesn’t care about danger- if Bucky’s pressed against him, hiding from Villain of the Week- an erection is sure to follow.

His body is goddamn traitor that way.

But if you ask him, he’s just thankful he still _can_ get a hard on.

For a while, it had seemed like the brunette reporter had destroyed all future hope. Things had, however, picked up since then and now, they’re in a good place.

Till Nat decides to throw Steve a birthday party, that is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please, if you have **any** ideas on how to get these two together, drop me a comment. Cause I'm at my wit's end.  
>  I legitimately cannot think of any way to bring them together.  
> Okay, that's not true- I have a rough idea, but it's too cliched.  
> So, any suggestions would be welcome! :D
> 
> PS. I know this one's a little abrupt, but I promise I'll make it better later! :( Sorry.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my gawwd! Please don't kill me! *shies away from tomatoes and insults* No really, I'm super sorry this took so long and despite the delay, I gotta say, I don't like this chapter one bit.  
> But, we are here at the end and for all of you who decided to (unfathomably) stick with this- I love you guys and all your comments and support. <3 *blows kisses your way*  
> The reason I got this delayed was bc I was playing a lead in this concert (*flicks hair*) and then it was my birthday this week and then I realised I hadn't posted in _ages_ which naturally meant I got down to writing and so here you go!
> 
> PS. Sebastian Stan is an angel and y'all should definitely spend hours staring at his face on Google Images. God knows I did. :D ;)

It’s not that he hates Natasha.

“Say it with me, Steve- I am excited about tonight,” Nat sing-songs, for the sixth time that afternoon.

Steve rolls his eyes, repeating (also for the sixth time), “I am _terrified_ about tonight,” and promptly climbs back inside his blanket fort.

Natasha growls and latches onto the ceiling of his beloved fort and _pulls_. The poor thing doesn’t stand a chance against her iron will (or grip). As his magnificent structure falls around him, Steve lies curled-up in the middle, looking for all the world, like a foetus unwilling to unfurl. “Please, Nat,” he says softly. “I don’t want to do this.”

Her gaze softens. “I know, Steve.” He smiles at her, feeling understood and happy and-

“But that doesn’t mean you fucking won’t.”

He _hates_ Natasha.

“Hate you too, Cap.” She says, climbing up and dragging him with her. “Now, let’s go. We gotta go get you gussied up and pretty.”

He stares at her. “Not even in my wildest dreams would I have imagined you ever saying ‘ _gussied up’_.”

“If I was in your wildest dream, talking would be the last thing I’d be doing, Rogers.”

Steve cringes.

Natasha laughs.

-*-*-*-*-*-

“Hey! That one was perfectly fine!” he protests as the shirt is taken away from him, even though he knows it’s in vain. Once Sharon decides something doesn’t look good on him, it doesn’t stand a chance. That doesn’t mean he won’t fight tooth and nail for it, though.

As expected, the blonde raises an eyebrow at him.

“It’s not bad, okay?”

The other eyebrow joins the first.

“Besides, it has a nice message!”

“Steve, the shirt says, ‘Save the chubby unicorns’.”

“THAT’S BECAUSE RHINOCEROSES ARE ENDANGERED, SHARON!”

“I… honestly can’t believe we leave the protection of this city up to you.”

It’s a huge struggle. Steve refuses to wear any of the stuffy, formal shirts Sharon picks out (‘if you’re going to force me to attend a stupid birthday party, you’re going to damn well let me pick my own clothes’). Sharon, in turn, refuses to let him pick any of the t-shirts with witty quotes (‘they’re stupid puns, Steve’).

In the end, it’s Sam who splits up the two siblings and picks out a neutral blue shirt with a casual white design. It looks a tad dull but Steve doesn’t glare at it so much and Sharon doesn’t rip it apart with her fingernails, so that’s enough of a win for him. Besides, trying to look like you’re not with the two drama queens bickering over t-shirts in a public shop while customers glare at you, isn’t Sam’s idea of fun.

-*-*-*-*-*-

The party is in full swing by the time he finally gets there, which makes zero sense considering the fact that _he’s_ the birthday boy. He mentions as much to Scott, who just nods his head sagely without saying a word. Steve gives up.

As soon as he enters the party, there’s a collective cheer from the guests, some of whom he doesn’t even recognize and he gives an awkward smile, waving at everyone. A bunch of people begin to move towards him, but it’s Cassie who reaches first.

“Steve!” she cries out, taking a running jump at the cop. He grabs her around the waist and twirls her high in the air before settling her in his arms. “Happy birthday Steve!” she hugs him, once she’s stopped giggling.

“Thank you, sweetie.” He replies with a smile, bumping his nose against hers. “Did you get me something for my birthday?”

She clucks her tongue, playfully shaking her head. “You know it isn’t polite to ask for your gifts, right Steve?”

“Oh it isn’t? I’m sorry, I probably got influenced by the girl currently sitting on my arms.” He teases, smiling softly as she fakes a gasp and lightly punches his chest.

“Cap?” Scott cuts in, grinning at the two of them. “There’s a few people that want to meet you. Why don’t you go on and I’ll hold on to Peanut?” Steve looks around realizing his act with Cassie has gathered a crowd and sheepishly passes her back to her father.

Immediately, a Captain from a neighboring station steps forward, shaking his hand and barely wishing him before launching into a rant about some official work. Steve suppresses a sigh.

It isn’t until fifteen (fifteen!) minutes later that Nat comes to rescue him, whispering apologies as she drags him away. “I’m so sorry, Steve. I really didn’t mean to invite people from work, outside of our circle.”

“Then how did it happen?” he whispers back furiously. “Because I thought once you take over a situation, you take care of it.”

She glares at him, affronted. “I do!”

He raises an eyebrow at her.

Her expression doesn’t even flicker.

He huffs. Stupid ex-spies with their eyebrow raise-resistant personalities. “I do, and you know it. It’s just that I told Sam to text details of today’s party on our chat group and he sent it on the office-wide group…” she finishes, pursing her lips. “Sorry, Steve. I know you don’t-”

“No, that’s fine. Don’t bother apologizing.” Her apologetic expression drops immediately, a grin replacing it. “…it’s not like you mean it, anyway.”

“We-ll, to make up for this…blunder, I can offer you something that’ll cheer you right up.” she says, mirth dancing in her eyes. He’s instantly wary. “What?”

Stalking closer, she slowly puts her hands on his shoulders and whips him around. “Happy birthday, Cap.”

Looking at the sight in front of him, Steve feels his throat dry up.

Because, in no universe ever, should Bucky Barnes be allowed to dress like like that.

-*-*-*-*-*-

It takes three tries for him to get even a ‘hi’ out and Bucky just stands there, trying to hold in his laughter.

When he finally manages to stutter the word out loud, though, the other smiles warmly before stepping forward and giving Steve one of the best hugs he’s had in a while before pulling back a little. “Happy birthday, Stevie.”

The cop feels love volcanoes erupt in his chest and tries to clear his throat of all the breathlessness before answering. “Yeah, well. Yes. Um, t-thank you.”

If the stammering amuses Bucky, the brunette doesn’t show it, simply grinning at the thanks and dragging Steve to the counters laden with food. “Sorry,” he mumbles apologetically while shoving a hot dog in his mouth as Steve watches in disgusted fascination. “I came here directly from work and Hodge didn’t let me take a proper lunch break, so…”

Steve scowls, good mood evaporating. “I really feel like giving that guy a piece of my mind at times.” He says lowly because it’s a step better than ‘ _would you like me to cut his heart open vertically or horizontally?_ ’

Bucky moves closer with a grin that has Steve cautiously backing away. “God Stevie, I get all tingly when you growl like that.” He replies, a glint in his eyes as he casually winks at Steve.

(If the blonde happens to upset the beer in his hand all over the tablecloth somehow, it’s because he wasn’t expecting it and definitely not because Bucky’s devilish winks have had him humping against his pillows for the last one month).

 

Time flows like water then, at least to Steve. He spends the evening in a daze, laughing and bantering with Bucky (‘I think my facial muscles might stab me if I laugh any more’ ‘Seriously? Even Pierce had more stamina than y- okay I’m kidding, I’m kidding, jeez!’) and ~~running away from~~ strategically avoiding various guests (‘They’re going to be real mad, Buck, you know that, right?’ ‘Please, like any of them would want to talk about anything other than their pompous bullshit’).

“You know,” Steve says thoughtfully. “Sometimes I really wonder how you got to where are you despite being so…tactless.”

“Oi!” Bucky yells indignantly.

“No, don’t get offended- I’m really just curious. You seem to be awfully bad at being civil to important people, you know?” Steve doesn’t understand why Bucky’s still flushed red with annoyance, so he (very tactfully, in his opinion) changes the topic.

“What’s your next story, by the way? Should I keep the fire brigade ready?”

“That was one time, dammit, Rogers. Let it go!”

-*-*-*-*-*-

It was inevitable, really, in the end. He’d been so foolish to even think he could do this the normal way- charm and make Bucky laugh away the entire evening, and after a little bit of liquid courage, pull the younger man closer and finally, finally ask him out on a date.

And Bucky would try to stifle his laughter as Steve predictably flailed and stumbled his way through the question before saying yes, of course I’ll have dinner with you, punk with that gorgeous smile and pulling him down for their magical kiss.

The good news? The magical kiss did look like it was about to happen. The bad news?

_It wasn’t Bucky trying to pull him down._

No no no, it was the lovely Lorraine, his receptionist, drunk off her ass and rubbing herself all over Steve. She’d sashayed up to them out of nowhere, before throwing her arms around his neck and grinding against his body to the music.

The non-existent music.

“Uh, hi there, Lorraine,” he offers weakly, resisting the urge to forcefully pry her arms off.

She smiles seductively before throwing her head back and letting out a…sound Steve can’t bring himself to say in his brain, let alone out loud. “Steeeeve, dance with me, come on.”

“Who, me? Oh no, I don’t think that’d be such a great idea.”

“Why not?” she asks, pout in full force as she brushes against… the front of jeans. Steve has to work hard to suppress a shudder. “I’m sure your moves would be incredible.”

“That’s very nice of you to say, Lorraine,” Steve replies, face steadily heating. “But really, I was just talking to-”

“Oh hey Lorraine!” Bucky says, pointedly chirpy. Somehow managing to squeeze into the space between the blonde receptionist and Steve’s chest, he pushes the top of his head under the taller man’s chest insistently. When he’s done making sure he’s firmly plastered to said body part, he turns his head around to side-eye her. “Thanks for holding on to my boyfriend while I...looked. At you. Dancing with my boyfriend. Who’s dating me.”

“He is?”

“I am?”

“You are.” Bucky says firmly before smiling sweetly at the girl, who suddenly feels a lot more sober and terrified now that she has the undivided ~~rage~~ attention of the brunette. “Now, if you’ll excuse us, Steve promised he’d show me stars with his HUGE-”

“We’ll talk to you later, Lorraine, goodnight!” Steve squeaks, covering Bucky’s mouth with his hand before hastily shoving him to the salad counter.

“What is wrong with you?” he hisses as soon as they’re away from the now wide-eyed receptionist.

Bucky rolls his eyes. “Will you chill? She’s been trying to rub herself all over you for months now and honestly, I did her a favor! You keep acting nice to her and leading her on and that’s the reason she even thought she had a chance with you, Stevie. And clearly, once that thought enters her brain, she’s not gonna let go. I was just cutting it off before you hurt her, that’s all.”

Steve’s mouth works open and shut for a few moments before he closes it with an audible click. Bucky grins wolfishly, pretending to be deaf. “Sorry? Couldn’t quite catch th-”

“SHUT UP BUCKY!”

-*-*-*-*-*-

So yeah, no. The night obviously didn’t progress the way Steve had planned it but hey, he still got to enjoy a lot with the object of his affections and everyone had a nice time.

Which is why, of course, Sam had to spoil it all. The usually-sensible cop had found one of his many admirers and after a good two hours of solid drinking, stumbled to the stage as everyone sat back, enjoying dessert.

“Can I have everybody’s-” hiccup. “Everybody’s attenshunnn plis?” Slowly heads begin to turn and really, that should’ve been his first warning but Steve was too busy internally cooing over the way Bucky’s face would scrunch up after taking a tiny sip of Steve’s cold drink.

In the distance, his dickhead of a best friend continues to ruin his life. “So as aaaall of you may know… it’s Steve’s thirtiiith bir’hday ‘day! Whoooo! Yeah, tha’s it, lemme hear those cheeeers! Tha’s great, tha’s great guys, okay, no siiiriously though- Steve is turning thirty. Thirty. THIRTY! Unffunet- unfornate…dammit, UNFORTUNATELY, our favrittt cop alssoo happens to be…SINGLE!”

Steve will forever blame the cute way Bucky sneezes for keeping his attention till that moment. As it happens, he hears the last line Sam shouts and very slowly turns his head to the stage where his friend is currently standing with a microphone almost down his damn throat.

He barely has two seconds to send a quick prayer to God, begging Sam won’t bring Bucky into it before-

“BUT, fear nott, mah frens- HE’S GOT HIS BUCKAAYY!” the crowd cheers, too relaxed and buzzed to care about anything at this point. Steve distinctly begins to feel panic clawing at his throat as déjà vu creeps over him. He surreptitiously eyes said brunette from the corner of his eyes and feels his world crash as said man slowly looks from Sam to Steve with a deadly grin.

Meanwhile Sam continues on his journey of Steve-destruction. “Yeahhhh, they’re reeeaally close, like supah dupah close. Got this craaaazy game goin’ on aaall the time of flirtin’ and bickrin’ inda same breath! Wazzat the fans call i’ these daysss, Nat?”

“Unresolved sexual tension,” the redhead supplies helpfully from where she’s seated sporting a smirk as bright as her hair. Steve closes his eyes and condemns her to the deepest circle of Hell before realizing even Satan would end up bowing before her. Fucking ex-spies.

“THA’S IT, NAT! You got it, Nattykins!” the future murder victim crows from the stage even as Nat glares at her new nickname. “UST’s wha these boys have got, yo! An’ boi, can you see it, ha! One tiiiime, our Caaaptun stay’d up till theee inda mo’ning jus’ waitin’ for tha dumbasss to call in case he need’d back-up! Talk abou tru lurvve huh, Steve! Not to menshun da way he checks out dat ass evvverytime that reporter bends ovah!”

The blond flushes, ignoring the way Bucky’s eyes seem to be boring a hole in his skull and quickly stands up, making his way to the blabbering cop as fast as possible.

It’s no use, though. His life is unravelling before his very eyes and like in the movies, he’s moving in slow motion.

“Yeahhh, Steve reaeeaally really likessss his Bucky. Nevah seen ‘im get soooo upset abou sumone gettin’ inna trubbblle! But hey, mirca- mirax… miracles hav happen’d b’fore riiiight? ‘M sure sumday Cap’s gunna tell his Bucky tha he dun’t force himselff to eat tofu fir everyone and then he’s gunna sweep his Bucky offa his feet an smoooooch him an’ then end up in very flexib- HEY!”

Steve drags Sam down from the stage with a single hand, blushing and waving apologies at everyone. One pleading look at Nat and the redhead gets up to do damage control with a sigh, sharing an exasperated look with Sharon who seems to be directing the guests to the exit.

“Okay, Sam,” Steve says, turning to his subordinate. “I want you to know that what I’m about to say to you is nothing personal, okay?”

The other man nods, grin still set on his face. Dick.

“Alright, you uh… you should probably take the week off, okay?”

“Whyyyy?”

Steve pinches the bridge of his nose. “Because I’m not entirely certain I won’t strangle you tomorrow morning, Sam, that’s why.”

“You mean in the event you do manage to make it out of bed tomorrow morning?” Sam asks, drunk expression suddenly replaced by a very sober eyebrow raise. 

Steve gapes. “Right. I should probably mention I wasn’t actually drunk.”

“B-But y-you…B-Bucky just- I don’t- _there were kids present today, Sam_!” he manages finally.

Sam rolls his eyes. “Yes and they definitely learned a lesson Nat and I’ve been trying to teach you for weeks.”

Steve opens his mouth to let lose the torrent of insults when he’s abruptly struck by a thought. Absently fixing his gaze on the now empty tables, he frowns. “What do you mean, get out of bed? Why wouldn’t I get out of bed? Wait, why are you grin- he’s behind me, isn’t he?”

Sam grins, nodding brightly as he spins around to join Sharon and Nat putting on their coats. “Have fun and if by some miracle, you do resurface by day after, please remember you gave me a week’s holiday. ‘Night, James.”

“Night, Sam,” Bucky calls out and Steve jumps because he is _right there_. Turning around, he firmly fixes his gaze on Bucky’s leather jacket (why is he so fucking hot, damn it) and does what he’s second best at- he babbles.

“Okay firstly, Bucky- I’m so, so sorry you found out this way. I honestly never meant for you to have to put up with so much unwanted attention and I totally get it if you’re upset about so many people having witnessed my stupid crush but really I won’t let it come in the way of our friendship. I mean, that is, if you still want to be friends because you know I would never force you to do anything-”

“Is it?” Bucky interrupts, expression blank and unreadable and that’s what scares him. For as long as they’ve known each other, Steve’s always been able to read his face and the thought that Bucky might hate him right now terrifies him.

His clears his dry throat awkwardly. “Is it…what?”

“Is it just a stupid crush? Or…” he steps closer, mischief twinkling in those beautiful eyes. “Or is it something more?”

His face has that seductive look it had when Steve had first set eyes on him that night in the bar- smirk set in place with his expression all inviting. And yet, it’s glaringly obvious how nervous he is, teeth digging into his lower lip, eyes darting everywhere. He's scared too, because for all their flirting and bantering they haven't done this before and Bucky is just as scared of losing Steve as he is of losing Bucky.

And suddenly, Steve's world is becoming lighter and brighter because ladies-man Bucky Barnes, reporter extraordinaire _wants_ him. The innuendos, Bucky's possessiveness with Lorraine all begins to make sense. He wants to date Steve.

It makes him grin. "You want to _date_ me."

Bucky instantly flushes and for the first time, Steve doesn't let himself feel guilty for wanting to know exactly how far down it goes. "I do not."

Steve quickly arranges his face into something casual. "No? Great, then I think I might go for Lorraine. I'm pretty sure she must still be out in the lobby and-"

The brunette growls out a 'you piece of shit' before flinging himself at Steve who just laughs and catches him mid-air. Bucky wraps his legs around Steve's waist, attacking his face with kisses, calling him 'moron' and 'oblivious jackass' before drawing back and hovering lightly over Steve's lips.

"You're going to be making this one up to me all night, Rogers."

Steve smiles. "You bet I am, Buck."

And then, just as their lips are about to join for that magical kiss-

"Sam was right, though," Bucky quips. "You won't be getting out of bed anytime this week, buddy."

Steve drops his head onto Bucky's shoulder and groans.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IT'S DONE! Whoooo!! Yeah!  
> Never thought I'd get here. I think this is the first multi-chaptered fic I've completed. (more than two chapters, I mean) Anyway, I hope you guys don't kill me for making Sharon and Steve siblings but I couldn't help it! It just took a life of its own, I swear. Seriously.  
> Okay, so that's done and now I gotta do one last thing which is thank amaericachavezisbae for suggesting Sam to be the guy who blabs Steve out! Thank you so much and even though drunk!Sam is pretty OOC and terrible, it had to happen, so please don't murder me. *meek eyes*  
> ALRIGHT I'M GOING TO SHUT UP NOW  
> Thanks a lot for reading! Let me know if there's something in particular you want to see even though I'm not the best at writing prompts quickly. Leave me feedback and I'd love to reply! :)


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OKAY.  
> So this one just came out of nowhere, bc the lovely Papermint310 said she'd love to see some smut.  
> And I'm so sorry there isn't a lot, but I really have a shit ton of fics _and_ homework to finish so please forgive this puny little thing.  
> It's basically a tiiiiiiny drabble of smut.  
> Which, incidentally, I suck at.  
> Anyway, please do subject yourself to this. You (probably) will survive.

It’s crazy, Steve tells himself for the thirtieth time in two days. It shouldn’t be possible to want someone so much, so many times and _God_ , in so many different positi-

NO. Bad Steve. Focus.

Where was he? Right, ~~positions~~ um, wanting Bucky. 

Like he’s told himself repeatedly, their level of… _passion_ is astounding. Steve has had quite a few partners before Bucky, but he’s never felt this way with any of them. He’s never felt any special connection, never felt anything unusual when they’re spread out under him- not the way he feels when it’s _Bucky_.

Bucky pants and squirms and makes the most delicious sounds Steve’s heard, all signs of cockiness gone. He lies stretched out on Steve’s bed, looking like he belongs there with all his cries and begging. 

The blonde is currently enjoying the sight of his favorite reporter arching off the bed with sensitivity and overstimulation. He’s flushed red from hours of climax and pleasure, hair sticking to his forehead as he writhes and moans and still, all he can do is shudder and gasp, “P-please, Steve- _ah ah ah, fuck_ \- just let me… just one last. I c-can’t take anym- _sonofabitch_!”

Steve withdraws his fingers from where they’ve been playing and toying with Bucky’s prostrate and smiles, angel-like in his beauty. “Don’t you think you’ve had enough for today, Buck? I mean I haven’t had a single orgasm and here you are, _begging_ for your fourth.” He plunges his fingers back with unerring accuracy, making Bucky sob and thrash as pleasure overtakes him. “In fact, I’m beginning to worry… what if there’s too much strain for your little cock?” Grabbing the body part in question, he slowly strokes from bottom to top, relishing the whine it gets him.

“Please please, Stevie, I’ll do _anything_!” his lover hiccups, lashes wet and face oh-so-desperate. He opens his eyes and looks deep into Steve’s, expression wanton and so needy and that’s all Steve needs.

He presses his fingers _hard_ against that spot and bites at Bucky’s neck till there’s a hickey large enough to satisfy him. Moving up to hover over the other’s lips, he sensually rolls his hips, connecting every inch of their body and shivering pleasantly when the friction slides across their cocks.

“Come for me, baby. Go on, I’ve got you.” He presses his mouth against the other’s, swiping his tongue across Bucky’s lips and crooks his fingers till Bucky can’t hold back any longer.

Shuddering hard against the powerful onslaught of sensation against his skin, the brunette comes for the fourth time, sensitive and almost painful, but still so beautiful in his release. He barely spurts at all and yet his eyes are glazed over with pleasure, lips slack and bitten red.

When he’s done, he falls back limply on the bed, eyes half-lidded as he watches Steve pull on his cock. It doesn’t take him much longer to come, either, the image of Bucky screaming out his name with that look burned in his mind.

Once they’re both done for the night, Steve gets up and pads to the bathroom, coming back with a washcloth and water. Bucky grins lazily as his boyfriend ( _boyfriend!_ ) cleans him up, crawling onto Steve’s chest once he returns- like a puppy demanding cuddles.

Steve chuckles, wrapping an arm around Bucky and sighing with contentment. This feels…nice. It feels good and normal and it’s definitely not awkward and Bucky isn’t being a little shit for a change-

“That’s really all you got, big guy?” He spoke too soon. “Because you know, I was promised a week of this and so far? Meh.”

Logically, he should be pissed that Bucky is still giving him attitude after being so thoroughly sexed up but instead, he finds a much more interesting way to counter.

Slowly flipping them both, Steve seats himself on Bucky’s naked thighs, lowering his head so he can speak directly into his ears. “No, Buck. I could do _so_ much more…”

Bucky shivers lightly and Steve suppresses a grin, continuing. “I could pin you down against these sheets and make you take every vibrator you have in here before pulling you down on the real thing that you want so badly. I could press you up against the walls, fuck you till you’re whining and clawing at them and I probably _will_ have you on that kitchen counter right there- take my time with you, alternate between slow and fast till you’re just shaking and begging for more, faster, _harder_.”

Bucky groans, hiding his face in his cop’s neck and Steve smiles. Taking note of how tired the brunette must be despite his excitement, he gets off his boyfriend, arranging them so the reporter is now cuddling into his side, one strong arm wrapped around his back.

“So, yeah. We could do all that, but I get the feeling someone needs their beauty sleep. Now, g’night, Buck.”

“G’night, Stevie.”

 

  
The silence lasts for all of twenty seconds before Bucky perks up. “So Steve, about spanking…”

Steve facepalms.

 

-*-*-*-*-*-

 

(Just so you know, there _was_ spanking. And the wall sex ended up happening a little too much when Bucky came out wearing Steve’s shirt, opening the refrigerator and bending low to pick out an apple. Side-note: Bucky _hates_ apples. So really, you can't blame Steve for ticking off a few items when his boyfriend is such a seductive, little shit.

Bucky’s neighbors probably filed a complaint but honestly?

If you’d been hungrily devoured and fucked on every possible surface, horizontal _and_ vertical, by six feet of blonde gorgeousness, you wouldn’t give much of a fuck, either)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AND THERE.  
> It was so tiny but I kinda liked it. Heheh.  
> Anyway, let me know if you liked it and I promise to accept criticism like an adult!  
> ...mostly.  
> Thank you for reading!
> 
> [Say hi to me on [tumblr](fiftyshadesofkawaii.tumblr.com) bc I will probs love you forever if you become my friend]

**Author's Note:**

> So... that just happened. Yes, I hate it too. Don't ask me why I posted this.
> 
> *goes off to find a knife to stab herself with*
> 
> Just, drop a comment? Pretty please? *Steve's puppy eyes*


End file.
